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"corrie" poems
is Corrie ten Boom´s Favorite Quote. The Master Weaver’s Plan My life is but a weaving Between the Lord and me; I may not choose the colors– He knows what they should be. For He can view the pattern Upon the upper side While I can see it only On this, the underside. Sometimes He weaves in sorrow, Which seems so strange to me; But I will trust His judgment And work on faithfully. ‘Tis He who fills the shuttle, And He knows what is best; So I shall weave in earnest, And leave to Him the rest. Not ’til the loom is silent And the shuttles cease to fly Shall God unroll the canvas And explain the reason why. The dark threads are as needed In the Weaver’s skillful hand As the threads of gold and silver In the pattern, He has planned. by AUTHOR UNKNOWN Based upon research, have discovered that more than one person has been credited with authorship of this poem. For now, have decided to list it as “author unknown” until there is further clarification. Corrie ten Boom. These words said Corrie ten Boom, the author of many many books. I feel honored and humbled that I may show you this poem she constantly presented in her life as a token of love to God and let you know about her. As Corrie ten Boom said the true author of this poem is still unknown. I am only the one who gives through. with love, Sylvia Frances Chan Wednesday, 20 December 2017
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Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
The Master Weaver’s Plan
An inland blockade from Israel cut off life giving supplies to the Palastians in Gaza. This happened around 2010. Formulated was the "GAZA FREEDOM FLOATILLA". Their strategy was to dock in Gaza-away from land-and deliver much needed life saving supplies. However, the flotilla was seized- on the sea -by the Israeli Navy consisting of one hundred and fifty sailors. Around ten people from one of the flotilla ships were killed and  brutality reigned supreme. ( a Turkish ship fought back ) Incarcerations from the floatilla to Israel's jails took place. And so I dedicate this writing to these wonderful people of conscience and their brave hearts upon the sea... Days of siege Days of conscience Days of hope Sailing to their destination Days remembered Day's compassion Days remembered these needed cargoes held Engines turning on paths of caution; love is carried on sailing symbols Each ship and boat will shout her name Will shout in spirit dear Rachel Corrie,dear Rachel Corrie Will shout in spirit dear Rachel Corrie Brave hearts you suffered so upon the sea Brave hearts you fought for truth, hope and dignity Brave hearts on floating love Brave hearts you are that peaceful powerful dove Brave hearts you are our guiding light Brave hearts you pierced that darkened blackened night Brave Hearts upon the sea...
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Brave Hearts Upon The Sea
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;* I should study a she-wolf's prose she wanted to write about death but life would frequently weasel and wheedle it's way in there’s an overhanging image a smaller yet infinitely larger organism continuously broached by each word I only want to study a caterpillar’s motion backward/forward /onward across arms/legs of this deer/dear [her] surname/ [my] given name/ separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels ***** blond hair dirtied by dust / rubble / rhyme /reason/ whatever/ in compliance with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy several shades lighter literally figuratively whiter than she need no permission pat benatar would/should croon to your moves every boy and girl friend i will/may/have/had should be yours entomo/insecto/[social] phobias I never would’ve said so I never would’ve/ could’ve told the caterpillar to go
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Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:41 PM UTC
Waggish Recall
*This is a poem for Rachel Corrie. I am not religious, and a far cry from spiritual, but I refuse to imagine Rachel Corrie insentient and six feet under, slowly amalgamating with the soil encasing her. Before her death, Rachel Corrie said “I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my co-workers. But I also want this to stop.” In the words of contemporary Palestinian poet Suheir Hammad “God has a better imagination than all of us combined” in either God's words or my own, I will not imagine in/on the same ground in/on which I maybe soon will be and more words from Suheir “What do I tell young people about non-violence when they can see for themselves how even orange bright and megaphone loud and cameras and US citizenship will not stop your ****** what do I tell young people/anyone even myself about “non-violence” when every single thing I've seen presenting itself/perhaps even masquerading as “non-violence” has been in my face and /rude/harsh/unavoidable and most of all, violent? I do not believe in God and humanity is pushing it's luck, but I believe in Rachel Corrie. This is for Rachel;* I should study a she-wolf's prose she wanted to write about death but life would frequently weasel and wheedle it's way in there’s an overhanging image a smaller yet infinitely larger organism continuously broached by each word I only want to study a caterpillar’s motion backward/forward /onward across arms/legs of this deer/dear [her] surname/ [my] given name/ separated by [semi/totally] circular VOWels ***** blond hair dirtied by dust / rubble / rhyme /reason/ whatever/ in compliance with a rep/RESENT/ative democracy several shades lighter literally figuratively whiter than she need no permission pat benatar would/should croon to your moves every boy and girl friend i will/may/have/had should be yours entomo/insecto/[social] phobias I never would’ve said so I never would’ve/ could’ve told the caterpillar to go
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Today I lost a dear friend. She loved with unconditional love; the type you can not buy or barter she would instinctively know when I was near and would wait patiently by the front door a 6th sense beyond what we see or what we hear what we think we heard or what we thought we saw. She had golden hair with flecks of mottled brown smiling eyes that knew friend from foe loyally walk side by side without fear in the darkest places where ever we would go I remember that time before; id broken up with a girl of 5 years she knew something hidden was very wrong, although I hid the tears, let the feelings cower she sat upon my legs, a paw on each shoulder nestled her head into my neck and hugged me for at least an hour She was a lady of grace, with the poise of pedigree with an open heart for those close she loved; her immediate family, close friends and me. She would've made a winning frisbee catcher that'll be the greyhound whippet in her genes zig zag sprinting faster than the wind itself hares and foxes was her excited prize lay low among the undergrowth unseen other than her piercing forever watching eyes Yesterday, like any other day she dug for stones chased her reflection on the water and stood guard as we slept little did we know the excitment of a fox to chase would stop her heart and for hours after my father, who kept his emotions in check, was left speechless and bereft   as he uncontrollably wept. Today I lost a dear friend, a companion like no other an amalgamated sense of loss, like a sister from another mother. Her last breaths, there are no words to look upon her slowly glazing eyes wrapped in a shroud and placed in a box she will be sorely missed departed from the ones she loved to the land of the chasing fox; muted words exchanged - the last goodbye the forever kiss. Corrie Rest in Peace 1999 - 2013
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Forever Chasing Foxes
Today I lost a dear friend. She loved with unconditional love; the type you can not buy or barter she would instinctively know when I was near and would wait patiently by the front door a 6th sense beyond what we see or what we hear what we think we heard or what we thought we saw. She had golden hair with flecks of mottled brown smiling eyes that knew friend from foe loyally walk side by side without fear in the darkest places where ever we would go I remember that time before; id broken up with a girl of 5 years she knew something hidden was very wrong, although I hid the tears, let the feelings cower she sat upon my legs, a paw on each shoulder nestled her head into my neck and hugged me for at least an hour She was a lady of grace, with the poise of pedigree with an open heart for those close she loved; her immediate family, close friends and me. She would've made a winning frisbee catcher that'll be the greyhound whippet in her genes zig zag sprinting faster than the wind itself hares and foxes was her excited prize lay low among the undergrowth unseen other than her piercing forever watching eyes Yesterday, like any other day she dug for stones chased her reflection on the water and stood guard as we slept little did we know the excitment of a fox to chase would stop her heart and for hours after my father, who kept his emotions in check, was left speechless and bereft   as he uncontrollably wept. Today I lost a dear friend, a companion like no other an amalgamated sense of loss, like a sister from another mother. Her last breaths, there are no words to look upon her slowly glazing eyes wrapped in a shroud and placed in a box she will be sorely missed departed from the ones she loved to the land of the chasing fox; muted words exchanged - the last goodbye the forever kiss. Corrie Rest in Peace 1999 - 2013
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For those of you who don't know me... My name is Corrie Brown and I struggle with depression. I have family history of depression, and I am clinically depressed. I have a lot of things go on in my life, Between, being molested/raped, having a druggy for a brother, a family who is totally ******* up, people betraying my trust left and right, hurting me for the fun of it, or to scare me for no reason.... I have done things I am not proud of, I have been through things I'd rather forget, but can't. I use to cut my arms, just to escape, when the pain became unbearable... I am a tough girl, but I can only be tough for so long. I spend everyday replaying things in my head, my past mocking me... To this day, my past ruins my present, and future. I spend every night crying myself to sleep. Thinking how much better off the world would be without me, how simple it would be to die, and not have to worry anymore. Life just doesn't seem like living, if you live it crying everyday, wanting to die. This is me, the me I don't show, because I have to be strong for everyone else. Be everyone's psych, rock, inspiration. So for those of you who don't know me.... Here's just the tip of the iceberg of the crap that is my life.... You want to know why I am the way I am.... HERE!!
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Confessions of a teenage girl.
A lost soul, swept up in a bisque of one's inner thoughts, feelings of sorrow fill your heart, thoughts of woe filling your head. A lost soul, in a sea of loneliness, driven to despair, all dreams fading away. A lost soul, falling from the sky, waiting for the inevitable, a future yet to come. A lost soul, with pain in their heart, and brokenness in their eyes, complete loss of joy from their once bright smile. A lost soul... A soul forever gone. ~Corrie Anne~
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
Lost soul
You are my every emotion I have never felt you, Yet you’re the most physical experience, I’ve ever had. The tears I shed, I shed for you… My heart beats, beats for you, My mind can’t get you out, My body stays awake; it can’t sleep… What can I do? You’ve got this hold on me… I’ll never leave, And you’ll never leave my mind… Stay with me dear, For you’re not just a figment of my imagination, I don’t feel as much as I do as when I think of you, And when you say my name… you bring me to life. Your voice is unlike any lifeline, Your attention’s a drug, and I’m addicted… I fell so hard, Just so you’d carry me back to reality… Please don’t say goodbye, For you’re unlike any other, I’ve ever known. Please don’t say goodbye, if not here, Then stay in my mind… Never leave, never let me let go. **For I fear if I ever let go, I will never feel again, I fear you take my heart, my mind, and my soul… I fear to drown in a sea of loneliness, and sorrow… Never let me let go… For I fear I will never love anyone, like I love you.** ~Corrie Anne~
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Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
Fear To Lose
Do you ever feel so alone, even though you're surrounded by people? So alone, that you feel like you're drowning? So alone that, no matter how much you scream for help, those people won't hear you? No? Then you're lucky... Me? Not so much... ~Corrie Anne
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
~Not so lucky~
Wishing you a very merry Christmas Filled with love and joy. An early morning start, opening presents with your girls and boys. Fingers crossed they've been good enough this year to get their wished for toy. Eating and drinking with your family Playing lots of games. Log fires burning, chestnuts roasting in the flames. Grandad snoring in his chair. Children laughing at his balding grey hair. At 3pm after the Queens speech, together we all sit. A table that usually sits four, now sits ten people or more. Turkey at the centre, 3 veggies and gravy in a dish. Everyone pulling crackers and making a New Years wish. Later in the evening corrie street on the tele. Everyone sat together on the sofa watching with very full bellies. Another Christmas day almost done. Mum and Dad relaxing with a glass or two. Raising their glasses and toasting a Very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you.
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Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Wishing you A Merry Christmas
The Zombie came to Corrie. First call Ken's place for a bit of brainy tea. Later fancied a taste of something more mature. Emily for supper. Rita tasted mighty classy. Tracy fought back. Tony was a great big lummocks. Thought he'd join Tracy in her zombie crushingly battle. Kylie and Eva out on the lash. Befuddled and pickled as Zombie teeth flash. Dev fought independently in his corner shop. Liz and Eileen mighty meaty. Steve shook in defence of his mother dear. Audrey,the dresser of hair got stuck in his teeth. Gail, put up a fight with her tongue, David copped it in the ear, mother dear. She'd noticed her new bedroom floor erupted. World's end outside the bistro, Callum's hanging out, Looking for Sarah. She's gone. He wanted to share her with the others. A really tasty morsel. Callum's back. (c)LIVVI
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
CORRIE
all i want is you take me in your arms and lets make love what do you mean you have a head ach wrong time of the month i need to shower baby all i want is you you ask me to watch corrie with you so there we both curl up there but tonight you curl up like a snake with distance between us baby why can it not be like it was before.
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Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 2:20 PM UTC
all i want is you!
Oh look, it's what's his name He was in that thing with... Corrie? No, well he might have been Oh, you mean on BBC one a few years ago Yes He played a copper along with Denis, oh, I forget Waterman? No, he was in the Sweeney That was the Seventies He's old enough The Bill? No, that was ITV Well, you've lost me Google it Google what? His name? Well you don't know his name! Oh I give up Hopper? On BBC one? He might have been in a film Hmm, maybe Right...it must have been Dennis Waterman I'm telling you, it's not Dennis Waterman Well, I give up, and so does Google (2 minute silence watching the programme) I've got it! Bill Paterson He looks nothing like Dennis Waterman! Same age...ish Your mad (A shrug of the shoulders) Right, I'm going out Yeah...see'ya Thinks to herself...Bill Paterson...I think he was in a film actually Oh, that's him in... JJB
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Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
Oh, that's him in...?
He lounges in his armchair ******* on a *** And quaffing beer. His eyes are glued to the telly, Watching Corrie Then footie Before heading off to the pub. He feels he’s earned his basic pleasures As he checks his mobile For emails and Tweets And Facebook posts. Comforts earned by slaving away All day For some faceless bureaucrat Hidden away in his company’s Ivory tower. For this is Joe Public. Ignore him at your peril. He has lots and lots of mates. And he is fed up of the “Nanny State” With it’s, “You shouldn’t do this” And , “You shouldn’t (or should) do that”. He’s fed up too with the PC Brigade Having already escaped the “God Squad”. But he’s ****** angry At simply being ignored. You can keep Joe happy With Celebrity and Social Media And sport And even “Pointless Quizzes”. He avoids Education To maintain his “Street Cred”. But there will come a point When he’s had enough. And once that happens His festering grievances Will surface Like killer sharks. And if he joins a mob of like-minded souls Who knows where that may lead? Perhaps to Revolution. So think on, my friend. Take care of Joe. Indeed of Every Joe. For Joe could be The Most Important Person In The World. Paul Butters © PB 30\11\2019.
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Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 6:10 AM UTC
Joe Public
You look at the television, a new series is starting Wife's making the tea, kettle boils, just waiting in the kitchen 3 minutes in, a face appears, it takes a minute to click Honey, who's this guy, I've seen him before but it just wont tick Hot drink in each hand, she steps in, looks, pauses and takes a think Oh, he was in whats it called, that show with the family on the brink He tried to ****** the mother to get the payout to feed the kids No, different guy, he's in Corrie now emptying the bins Keep watching, it'll come, this confusion that matters to nothing But it's bugging, so frustrating, his face was definitely in something What's his name, well I don't know, we'll have to wait until the end Click on the info button, it'll show up there, I might even have to phone a friend OK, nobody has mentioned him for a while, what was his name? Been around the block a bit but not known for his fame Appeared in The Bill, Birds of a Feather and Celebrity Generation Game But a face you forget, an accent non describable and tomorrow you'd still forget it again An every man, he fits in the plan, can take any role and just blend into the background A speaking part, a bit-part actor, was even in some major films but never talk of the town And then you look down in Tesco's, his name at last you see on a DVD in the bargain bin, great, its him! But what was he in?! JJB
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 8:35 AM UTC
But what was he in?